Are We Becoming Too Familiar With the Royals?
There was a time when British monarchs were known mainly through the portraits of Holbein or Winterhalter.
Remote, aloof, they enjoyed an elevated status that bordered on the god-like even if in reality they were suffering gout, chopping heads off, or going mouth-frothingly mad. Unless there was a civil war, distance preserved their dignity. Royal palaces were enchanted castles, where the stately business of influence was conducted behind gilded, closed, double doors. Secretive, yet magnificent.
Not any more. Now we have Queen Elizabeth II at the age of 90 appearing with Prince Harry in a promotional video for Prince Harry's Invictus Games.
The Invictus Games, in which injured servicemen play competitive sport, is undoubtedly a worthy event. But a worthy cause does not justify insisting one's royal grandmother gets down with the kids on Twitter. Prince Harry said his grandmother was the only person who could top the Obamas supporting the American team, as if he were playing a game of "International Leadership Top Trumps," not toying with the image of the Crown.
Four years after her appearance at the Olympics with Daniel-Craig-as-Bond, in which she pretended to helicopter into the stadium, we have the Queen "joining in" again. The truth is, a person with so many years of duty and decorum behind them can get away this sort of thing. But that doesn't necessarily make it a good idea, or make it funny either. Chipping away at royal mystique is a risky business.
This was days before another insight into those chummy, just-like-you-and-me Royals from the Chelsea Flower Show. An Australian gardener said that when William asked about a shrub in his garden, Kate replied, "Babe, we've got loads of those."
Is the fact that the balding father of two who is second in line to the throne is called "Babe" by his swishy-haired wife quite sweet, or just rather cringeworthy? Either way it's too much information. And such a pedestrian, next-doorish nickname, too.
The trouble with royalty is that the more approachable and down-to-earth they are, the more ordinary they seem. People may enjoy being reminded that the 90-year-old Queen is a grandmother in a cardigan who can't say no to her grandchildren, or that the young couple who stand in line to be King and Queen address each other with the same mundane, amiable naffness as the couple behind them in the supermarket.
But do they lose something in gravitas if that's what we think of when we think of them?
Photography, fashion, and the desire for gossip conspire to puncture the glorious bubble. The more photographed Royalty is, the less dignity can be preserved. The interest snowballs alongside the pictures, with the Royals complicit. Charles and Diana both used personal revelation as part of what they believed was their image preservation.
That may have furthered their personal brands-and furthered their cases in a very public divorce-but those years of confessional interviews did irreparable harm to the monarchy, damage that's taken decades to repair. Once we know their meet-cute stories and their pet names for each other, we feel entitled to know the not-so-nice things as well. Privacy has been breached and the adoring public will rush in, looking for any scraps of new information we can get. We go from being subjects to being fans, and fans are notoriously fickle.
Where the Queen was once a remote figure, trotting the globe in Norman Hartnell or Hardy Amies couture, Diana's wardrobe became a daily fashion show. And now we have Kate, endlessly scrutinized and often seen in outfits by approachable (yes, that word again) brands such as Zara or L.K. Bennett, which sell out in minutes on the internet. With such details, the appetite for gossip grows. So we know about what their kitchen is like, how Harry feels about marriage, and who calls whom "Babe." They photobomb each other. So like us! So normal!
But a question for the younger ones: if royalty becomes ordinary, then, really, what is the point?
Catherine Ostler lives in London. She is a contributing editor to the Daily Mail and a former editor of Tatler.
